Football just became a whole lot poorer yesterday.
A game that has been the lifeblood, the escape, a source of joy, and a sense of belonging to so many year after year was brought to a standstill in the most painful way imaginable.
The tragic passing away of Diogo Jota and his brother, André Silva, feels personal to many around the world.
Football has seen many of its sons and daughters taken away, but Jota’s death hits a lot harder. Maybe because, at 28, he was almost the same age as most of the football fans, even younger than some. Maybe because he was much more than a footballer when he stepped on the pitch.
This is not a sports story by any means. What happened in Spain yesterday is a human tragedy of the highest order, one that saw a family irreversibly change in an instant. Yet, there is an aspect of sporting symbolism attached to it, because of the warmth, the affection, and the smiles Jota spread around in the shirts of Portugal, Liverpool, Porto, Wolves, and Paços de Ferreira.
Diogo Jota was a kindred spirit. He carried himself with grace and humility. In a time where football stars are anywhere and everywhere, his level-headed and magnanimous approach felt like a breath of fresh air to his fellow players as well as fans.
His community from the Gondomar neighbourhood in Porto treated his success like their own, having seen him grow and mature in those streets. He was equally loved and cherished at Wolverhampton, where he instantly became a favourite, with fans always going away with a word, a chat, and a conversation on the streets, or at the Aromas de Portugal café, where he used to spend his off-days.
Liverpool supporters always loved him for his insatiable desire and hunger to contribute for the team. The fact that he was so well-spoken meant that his bond with the Anfield faithful was that much more intimate.
Jota was one of those footballers you felt you knew just by watching him play. His every touch, every move, every dart on the pitch resembled the same game that we played as teenagers in a time of tactical monotony. His lightness, his deftness, and his silkiness gave fans the feeling of having a very deep personal connection with the way he played the game.
What set him apart from the rest was the fact that he was so closely knit with the community. Outside the game, he was an avid member of the EA FC community, constantly communicating and indulging in light-hearted banter with fans and players from all over the globe as they pitted their wits against him.
Jota’s Liverpool legacy is indelible, immortal, and indispensable — having joined the club in 2020, taken the No. 20 shirt, and played an integral role in helping them win their 20th league title. He will be cherished, celebrated, and fondly remembered in Liverpool folklore, and his song will be sung forever in remembrance of his life, his love for the game, and everything he stood for.
“Oh, he wears the number 20,
He will take us to victory,
And when he’s running down the left wing,
He’ll cut inside and score for LFC,
He’s a lad from Portugal,
He’s better than Figo, you know,
Oh, his name is Diogo!”
Rest in peace, Diogo. You never walked alone on earth. You’ll never walk alone in heaven.
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